


see the fire, watch it glow

by chopins



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Take Me Home Tour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 05:36:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2954195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chopins/pseuds/chopins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m so tired,” a familiar voice moans out, and the body attached to the voice collapses face first down onto Niall’s bed, causing him to sigh, because when they all traded copies of their cards, he hadn’t expected a visitor. It was more of an emergency situation.</p><p>“Harry? It’s three in the fuckin’ morning.” Niall whispers fiercely, breaking his moment of laying still and kickingly lightly at Harry’s stomach, digging his toes into his side. Harry groans and seems to shift in the bed - but then again, Niall can’t really see him.</p><p>  <i>or, niall falls in love during tmh.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	see the fire, watch it glow

**Author's Note:**

> i have been writing this fic for far too long. i started it in may, and then gave up on it for the whole summer, until october. or maybe november? i have no idea. anyway, i have a few thank yous! BIG HUGE GIANT thanks to sara because without her this fic would not exist. she prompted the original prompt which was "hm harry is upset bc even though there's loads of rumors about him and ladies, he hasn't gotten laid in months and they're two months into the tour and hes really fucking horny and he gets drunk with niall and things HAPPEN" ... clearly that spiraled into this. she also irishpicked this for me and checked my grammar/spelling AND the flow of things on my outline.. really this wouldn't have come into fruition if it wasn't for her. also thanks to kate and rachel for reading and encouraging me to finish!!
> 
> this hasn't been properly britpicked at all, any mistakes left over are my own, and pls don't send this to the lads.

It’s three in the morning when there’s one knock at his door, and then the sound of a keycard being swiped through the reader.

It’s three in the fucking morning and Niall doesn’t even have the energy to push himself out of bed to see who the intruder was. He hopes to any deity that could possibly be listening at that godforsaken hour that it’s at the very least someone he knows. Sleep is something that Niall cherishes, and he doesn’t get very much of it on tour, so dealing with someone he doesn’t know barging into his room at jesusfuck in the morning is hardly something he wants to deal with. 

Instead, he lays still, deadly still in his bed and hopes that if they have some sort of a weapon, it’ll be over soon. 

“I’m so tired,” a familiar voice moans out, and the body attached to the voice collapses face first down onto Niall’s bed, causing him to sigh, because when they all traded copies of their cards, he hadn’t expected a visitor. It was more of an emergency situation. 

“Harry? It’s three in the fuckin’ morning.” Niall whispers fiercely, breaking his moment of laying still and kickingly lightly at Harry’s stomach, digging his toes into his side. Harry groans and seems to shift in the bed - but then again, Niall can’t really see him. 

Harry doesn’t answer him, though he supposes he didn’t really give him much of a question. Instead, there’s a click and suddenly, the room is washed in a pale blue light as Harry unlocks his phone. Niall gives him a moment to explain himself before he lets out a sigh and speaks. 

“Listen, always glad to have y’company, really, I am, but it’s three in the morning and if you want to look at your phone, why don’t you do it in your room?” He asks, his voice gentle, but he was exhausted. By all means, Harry should be tired, just like he was, but apparently, he was content to just sprawl out on his bed and scroll through his phone. 

“Niall, look at this.” He says, rolling over and shoving his phone in Niall’s face. Blinking against the sudden brightness (because, apparently, Harry didn’t believe in lowering the brightness on his phone display), he frowns and grabs onto the phone, letting his eyesight adjust before reading over the words. 

_Three months after Taylor - Harry moving on already?_

Frowning a bit, Niall looks from the phone over to the outline of Harry’s face, laying a foot away from him as he stares up at the ceiling. He hadn’t been aware that Harry was seeing anyone, but he knew better than to trust the tabloids. What he didn’t really get, though, was why Harry seemed to be so upset about it. 

At three in the morning. 

“Thought we told you not to search your own name anymore, Haz.” His joke doesn’t quite have the ring that he hopes. The moment that the words leave his mouth though, Niall knows it was the wrong thing to say, without even seeing Harry’s face. “Shit, I just mean, where did you find this?” 

Next to him, Harry’s breathing is slow and shallow, and he’s not really sure if he wants to hear the answer. Turns out, though, that Harry doesn’t really want to tell him. 

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll talk to you in the morning, okay?” Harry says suddenly, leaning over and planting a sort of messy kiss against his cheek before he’s pushing himself out of the bed. Niall watches his retreating figure, staring at the way his phone makes a silhouette of his tall body. 

Once the door snaps shut behind him, Niall groans and flops over, burying his head in the pillow. He has no idea what just happened, but if the sinking feeling in his stomach was anything to go by, it wasn’t anything good. 

— 

With a wakeup call from Paul the next morning at nine, Niall finds himself so exhausted that his conversation in the middle of the night with Harry nearly slips his mind. Settling in for breakfast in the small conference room that management had blocked off for them, he’s immediately swept up in the banter of Louis and Liam, who both clearly have gotten a full night of sleep. 

Dodging pokes from Louis and the spare croissant being tossed his way, he barely even notices Harry slipping in until Zayn is pmotioning for him to sit down next to him. 

“Mate, you look absolutely shattered.” Zayn points out, and it was then that Niall looks up, taking in his appearance. With his hair a bit askew (more than usual, in any case), and bags under his eyes, he has to wonder if he looked like that when he came into his room the night before, but maybe he just hadn’t been able to see it. 

He isn’t even aware that he’s staring before he gets a quick nipple twist from Louis and he jerks back, slapping a hand over the offended nipple. 

“Fucks sake, Louis!” He exclaims, reaching back to bat at his hand, and Louis just grabs onto his wrists with a cattish grin on his lips. 

“Staring isn’t polite, Niall, only if you’re staring at me.” Niall turns to look at him then, glaring for a moment before he pulls his hands away. 

“Wasn’t staring,” he mumbles forlornly, shaking his head and staring down into his orange juice. A foot gets hooked around his ankle then, and he looks up, to see Zayn staring at him with a gentle expression on his features. He simply stills, with Zayn’s foot a warmth against his until Louis gets a new target, which seems to be a combination of Liam and Paul. 

“Alright, Nialler?” Zayn’s voice is soft, quiet and just for him, something that Niall has needed more than anything else in the past few weeks. 

It was just after the start of the Take Me Home tour when he realized that he couldn’t keep lying to himself, or to the rest of the boys. 

The problem was that he was a private person, and because of that, he knew a lot of the fans saw him as just flat, the comedic relief. The cute one. But he wasn’t that at all, and while he knew the boys all knew that, sometimes he worried that he didn’t even let them into his life, into his thoughts, in the way that he should. 

Gathering them all together for a band meeting seemed like too much of a formal ordeal, and he didn’t want any of them to see it that way. It didn’t mean anything was changing, that he had changed, it just meant he was being a bit more open. 

Two weeks after the tour started, he found himself in Zayn’s hotel room, laying on his bed and scrolling through his phone as Zayn smoked a blunt, exhaling the smoke through the large windows. He had whispered it then, in between an inhale and an exhale, and it surprised Zayn so much that he stopped smoking and moved to the bed to sit close. 

In those moments, Zayn swore he wouldn’t ever let his secrets out, and he also didn’t have to rush to tell the others, that he needed to take it at his own pace. The thing that he reassured him of the most, though, was the fact that it wouldn’t change how he viewed him, how any of them viewed him. 

Just because he liked other lads, didn’t mean he wasn’t still their Niall. 

The look in Zayn’s eyes as Niall looks up and meets them is one of understanding, and Niall knows that if he needs to talk, Zayn’s door is always open. This time though, it wasn’t really his issue, so taking it to Zayn wasn’t really something he felt comfortable with. 

Their moment over the table is ruined by Liam standing up and banging his fist on the table once, much to Louis’ glee. 

“We have a few hours before the gig, yeah, lads? Let’s all have a kick about, they portioned out a bit of the land for us.” Liam says, a grin on his lips and Niall sighs, leaning back in his chair. As much as he wants to, they have a show that night, and he’d rather his knee not be aching from playing footie with the boys. 

“Go on without me, Tommo versus Payner, match of the fuckin’ century. Send me some pictures when Liam loses.” Niall cheers, laughing to ease the strange bit of tension growing in his chest. Pushing himself up out of his chair, he gives a bit of a wave to the boys in front of him before heading out of the conference room. 

The hallway is quiet when he walks towards the lift, except for mentally, where Niall is pouring over Louis’ observation repeatedly. Obviously, Louis didn’t mean anything by it, but Niall still isn’t able to stop thinking about it. 

Maybe it’s the fear that Niall’s had instilled in him by offhanded comments such as “that’s gay” or the ignorant remarks from his brother, questioning if his new gay colleague thought he was hot just because he was a guy. Either way, Niall’s not able to shake the feeling that maybe that was what Louis was thinking - that he was looking at Harry because he has a crush on him or something. He knows it’s ridiculous, and he knows that Louis wouldn’t ever think that way. 

As he jams his hand against the lift call button, he shakes his head, knowing that there’s no reason for him to be thinking about it all in such a way. He’s shaking himself out of it, but just as he does, Harry’s voice carries down the hallway to where he’s standing. 

“Hold the lift for me?” Niall turns and tosses him a glance to where he’s slinking down the hallway to him. With how exhausted he looks, Niall notes that Harry looks smaller, somehow, even more thin than usual with the bags beneath his eyes. He nods in response as the door dings and begins to slide open. 

Pressing his hand over the sensor to keep the door open, Niall waits for Harry to make his way to the lift, and finally, he sidles inside. Offering Niall a forced smile, he folds himself back against one of the walls across from him. 

“Alright, Harry?” Niall asks, raising an eyebrow at him. Harry just nods, pulling out his phone and tapping away at something. Niall sighs, watching him carefully as Harry, in turn, continues to ignore him. “You’ve been..” He starts, and then stops again when Harry looks up at him slowly. “Uh, you sleep alright last night? After y’came to my room.” 

Harry just stares at him, and then finally, he shrugs. 

“Not too bad. I was able to get up this morning for yoga.” Harry shrugs again and now it’s Niall’s turn to stare. He’s got absolutely no idea why Harry is acting so bizarre around him, but what he does know is that he’s not a fan of it. By the time Niall gets up the nerve to say something to him, Harry’s already turned his attention back to his phone, and he feels like it’s been shut down. 

The lift lurches to let them know they’ve gotten to their floor and Harry offers him another forced smile before nearly trotting out of the lift and down the hallway. Niall follows at a slower pace, watching as Harry fumbles with his keycard before slipping into his room, and suddenly, the hallway is far too quiet. 

— 

They’re in Berlin a week later when Louis and Liam come shouting into his room, dragging a sleepy looking Zayn behind them. Niall has no idea what’s going on, but suddenly, Louis is shoving clothes at him and Liam is on the phone with Harry and, apparently, they’re going to some “sick” club that Louis heard about. 

It’s been ages since the five of them went out to a bar together, so Niall really isn’t about to say no. By the time he’s dressed in the snapback and bomber jacket that Louis decided on for him, Harry’s at the door, dressed head to toe in black. 

Things between the two of them haven’t been as strained as they were in the two days after Harry showing up at his door in the middle of the night and Niall couldn't be happier about it. 

They take a car to the club, and they’re all pressed together, with Louis’ finger in his ear for most of the drive, and his feet propped up on Zayn’s lap. As they’re getting out of the car, Zayn leans in to the door and convinces them that they absolutely don’t need security, that “it’s Berlin, mate”, and they’ll be fine. 

Niall gives him a sort of skeptical look as he calls back, and suddenly, Harry’s arm is around his shoulders, his breath tickling his ear. 

“If the crowd gets too much, I’ll get you out of there, Niall,” he drawls and Niall’s absolutely unable to stop the beaming grin from spreading on his lips at the mere idea of Harry picking up on the very thing that was making him nervous. 

Then again, Harry had always been one of the most perceptive people that he knew. 

“Don’t plan on having a panic attack tonight, but thanks for the precursor, Harry.” Niall laughs, turning to pinch at the slight bit of skin peeking out between his skin tight jeans and nearly skin tight black shirt. 

Zayn turns then, high-fiving Louis and Liam simultaneously, and then Louis is turning, trailblazing the way towards the entry of the club. Niall shrugs, keeping his body tucked into Harry’s side as they’re waved through the VIP line and into the club. 

From there, he loses Harry. In fact, he loses Harry and Liam. Louis and Zayn lean in once they notice they’re gone, and they make a pact to stick together, complete with a ridiculous handshake courtesy of Louis Tomlinson himself, who slaps Niall upside the head once he doesn’t get it straight away. 

Once the two of them get into a lively discussion (or is it an argument? He can’t be sure) about some new Marvel comic, Niall takes it as a hint to bow out. Leaning in, he wiggles up between them, pressing his nose against Louis’ cheek playfully before grinning as he got their attention. 

“Time to get a drink, lads! Continue on without me, if y’will.” Niall salutes them before shimmying out of the booth and heading for the bar, nodding his apologies when he knocks into a few people. Leaning against the counter, he signals for the bartender, and once he has his attention, he settles back to people watch while he waits. 

Thankfully, Zayn was right, and not a lot of people at the club really care about them. They took a few pictures with people once arriving inside, but for the most part, people have just left them alone. 

Once the bartender comes over to him, Niall orders a pint and waits, adding it to the tab once he gets it, and he turns, knocking into someone. He’s met with a familiar, slow and easy grin and he rolls his eyes as he looks up to Harry. 

“Niall, mate, haven’t seen you all evening.” Harry says with that smile on his face, and Niall just laughs, taking a sip of his pint, using his thumb to wipe up some of the bit that had spilled onto the side of the glass when he knocked into Harry. Keeping his eyes locked on him, he sucks his thumb into his mouth for a moment before shrugging. 

“You and Leemo disappeared immediately, Harry, not my fault.” He points out, shaking his head and Harry just shrugs, slinging his arm around his shoulder again and tugging him in close. 

“Niall. Ni, Niall.” Harry stage whispers and Niall rolls his eyes, looking up to meet his gaze. “I haven’t pulled in ages.” 

Niall isn’t really sure why Harry’s telling him this, so he glances around, attempting to find Liam, but he finds him at the booth with Louis and Zayn, so he knows he’s on his own. They’re all probably discussing comics, anyway. 

“Well, as Zayn said, it’s Berlin, mate, so why not? Go pull with some bird, I’m not going t’stop you.” At that Harry shakes his head, exasperated and Niall’s not really sure what he said wrong, but it was clearly something. Just like the week before, when Harry had come into his room and then proceeded to act like he had fucked him over for the next two days. 

“Don’t really want to, see. Hey, did you know that I haven’t gotten off with someone in two months?” Harry’s eyes widen as he leans in close to Niall and suddenly, the room feels too hot, the heat and sweat of the crowd moving in on him. 

“That’s nice,” Niall croaks out, taking a step backwards and polishing off most of his pint in one go. He has no idea why Harry’s telling him this, but honestly, he doesn’t really want to know, not at that moment. Slamming his glass down on the bar, he turns back to Harry and gives him a forced smile. “I’m going to go back to the hotel, tired from the show tonight.” 

He doesn’t want to see Harry’s reaction, he just heads out, doesn’t even stop at the booth to talk to Zayn and the wondertwins. 

Once he’s outside, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and calls Bas to come pick him up. 

— 

He’s been at his hotel for an hour or so, just puttering around the room. He took a shower already to sober up a bit, and then changed into a pair of tracksuit bottoms, and after, he spends the next twenty minutes or so organizing his suitcase, just so he doesn’t forget anything when they leave for Hamburg in the morning. 

He’s just putting the snapback that he wore that night into his case when there’s a knock at the door and he rolls his eyes, not in the mood to talk to Harry when he’s so confused about his remarks earlier. 

“Fucking christ, would you just chill out for a second.” Pushing himself off of the floor when the knocking just continues, Nialls groans and grabs the door handle, pulling it open as he continues. “Harry, I’m really not in th- oh. Hey, Liam.” He catches himself and then takes a step backwards, staring at Liam as though he sprouted another head on his neck. 

“Evening, Nialler. Bit of a rude move leaving us all in that club, don’t you think?” Liam asks, far too cheerful for the current time and he heads into the room as if he owns the place. Niall’s left staring again, rubbing at his chest absentmindedly as he tries to work out just why Liam has decided to come to his room for a nightcap. 

“Wasn’t feeling up for it anymore, suppose. Sorry, Liam.” Niall shrugs, not really sure why he’s apologizing when Liam had the other three there by his side, it wasn’t as though he was out alone or anything, or that he would be a huge gap. Liam just rolls his eyes, and heads for Niall’s bed, smoothing out the duvet before settling down against the pillows. 

“I know, ‘s why I came to find you.” Liam states, a sort of proud tone to his voice that makes Niall smile. The way that Liam always sought him out when he was a bit down, ever since their days back at The X Factor, he’s always been a comfort to him. 

Niall crosses to the bed then, looking at Liam for a moment before he climbs onto the bed next to him, nestling in close. Liam’s arm goes around his shoulder, and he just waits, waits for Niall to get his thoughts together enough to be able to form real sentences. 

“I’m gay,” he says finally, closing his eyes tight and Liam’s movements, just small circles on his shoulder, don’t even stop for a second. 

“Reckon that’s alright.” Liam shrugs, and Niall opens one eye to peer at him, before closing them tight again and leaning his head against Liam’s shoulder. It wasn’t that he thought Liam would disapprove of him, but more that he hated having to come out time and time again, and he hated the stigma that followed it. Deciding to just change the subject instead of keep going on about it, he slides an arm around Liam’s waist, holding onto him tightly. 

“Did’ya talk to Harry tonight? At the club, after I left.” Niall clarifies, and he can sense Liam’s confusion as he shifts beneath him a bit. 

“No, don’t recall that I did too much, at least not about anything all that interesting to you. Mostly about some bird that he thought was fit, why?” Liam asks, and when Niall opens his eyes again, he’s staring down at him with an inquisitive expression. Niall hates it, so he closes his eyes again with a sigh. 

“Just wondering.” He mumbles against his shoulder, and then a moment of silence passes between the two of them. “Hey, Payno?” Niall starts suddenly, holding tighter to his waist. There’s no answer and he opens his eyes to see that Liam’s passed out already, head resting on the pillow and he sighs, stretching to flick off the light. 

— 

When he wakes up the next morning, Liam’s already gone, with only a sticky note on the pillow in his absence. Niall rolls over, groaning softly and grabbing the note, bringing it right in front of his face to be able to read it. _been off to breakfast with louis, see u later! love u!_ Niall reads the note over a few times again, the smile never quite leaving his face before he folds it up and pushes himself out of bed. 

Tucking the note into his suitcase pocket, he heads to the toilet for a wee. As he’s washing his hands after, Niall stares at himself in the mirror, picking apart the way that the bags under his eyes seem to have grown overnight. He never thought that a boy would have him so out of sorts. Or really, that his best friend would have him so out of sorts. 

After splashing some water on his face, Niall turns and heads to his case, zipping it up tightly for the drive to the next city. They have a bus call in half hour, and normally, Niall would go find Harry or Zayn and help them pack their things as well, but that morning, he relishes in the silence, posting a picture of his case to instagram, getting nearly a thousand likes immediately. 

As the clock flips closer to 9, he pushes himself out of the bed finally, grabbing his hoodie from the chair next to the door and his case, making his way down to the lift. The hotel feels eerily silent, like there’s no one else on the floor. The thought makes him check his watch again, as well as his phone to see if he has any missed calls from Paul. 

Nothing. 

Shaking his head as the lift opens, Niall heads out into the lobby, giving a quick wave to the fans in the window before he’s being escorted down the hallway to the back entrance where the buses are parked. He’s the second to last one on the bus, and surprisingly, it’s not Zayn that’s last this time, it’s Harry. 

Zayn is asleep again though, sprawled out on one of the couches and Niall just laughs, carding his fingers through Zayn’s hair before he makes his way to the bunks, dropping his overnight bag on the bed and making his way down to the lounge and poking his head inside. Louis is sprawled there, feet on the back of the couch while Liam’s on his phone next to him, trying to take some sort of a vague picture for twitter. 

“Morning lads.” Niall says finally, pushing the door open all the way and stepping inside. They both turn and look at him with matching grins. He feels a tad unnerved. 

“Morning, Nialler,” they both chime and Niall feels creeped out enough that he turns and closes the door behind him, making his way back to his bunk, where he perches, staring down at his toes. From where he’s sitting, he can hear Paul yelling at Harry, and he simply just stays still. He’s not sure if Harry will remember what he said the night before, but Niall’s got enough of a headache already that talking to him about it will probably make it worse. 

The door to the bus crashes open and Harry stalks inside, Niall can see him if he cranes his neck from where he’s sitting, and in the process, wakes Zayn up. Niall just stays where he is, staring at his toes as Harry brushes past him, shoving his bags into his bunk before he climbs into it and yanks the curtain shut. Turning to look at Zayn, he’s met with an annoyed shrug and Niall pushes himself up from his bunk, heading to where Zayn is laying to cuddle and read some funny tweets, a standard pastime in the bus, really. 

It’s not until a few hours later that Harry comes out of his bunk, looking a thousand times better than when he went slamming around earlier. Liam and Louis have ventured from their spot in the back a few times, after getting Harry to leave them alone because they were ‘writing’ (which, Niall isn’t convinced of that), and finally, Harry comes to sprawl on one of the couches where he and Zayn have been sitting for the better part of the journey. 

They sit in silence for a few minutes, until Niall can’t take it anymore and he speaks up. 

“Late night?” He questions, and he’s met with silence, before Harry finally shrugs, looking up from his phone. As he sets it down next to him, Niall can see he’s texting Nick a bunch of emojis. Harry’s very weird. 

“A bit, yeah. I cut out about two, though. I didn’t stay as long as the others.” Harry nods to where Zayn has disappeared back with Louis and Liam. Niall watches the line of his throat and tries not to hate himself. 

“Still later than me.. Got a full nights sleep, I did.” He lies through his teeth, narrowing his eyes slightly as Harry picks up his phone again. Niall slumps back against the couch as he stares at him, wondering if he’s going to take the bait. 

“Lucky bastard, bet you’ll be in full energy for the gig tonight, then?” Harry asks, but he’s not all there, and Niall’s picked up on that a little too much. He simply grunts softly in response, and Harry doesn’t even react. Niall narrows his eyes at him, before standing and stretching his arms up over his head. 

“Right-o, anyway, I’m going to go take a nap.” He mumbles, turning and heading for the bunks. Niall hears Harry moving slightly behind him, picks up on that sharp intake of breath like he’s about to call out to him, but the sound never comes. 

— 

They’ve been at the venue for two hours, soundcheck having just finished, and Niall finds himself grabbing onto Zayn and tugging him into the toilet with him. 

“Christ, mate, warn a man first.” Zayn yelps, shoving at his shoulder and Niall just shrugs, offering him a half-witted smile. Zayn’s teasing expression falls off immediately and he steps forward, a look of concern painting itself on his face. “Nialler?” He asks softly, reaching out to let his fingers graze Niall’s hand where it’s fisted in the bottom hem of his soft tee. 

When he doesn’t react immediately, Zayn pries one of his hands off of the fabric and takes it in his own, holding onto him in one of the best ways he’s known how since The X-Factor. 

“You can talk to me, you know.” Niall knows, it’s why he pulled him into the toilet with him. “But you don’t have to, like. If you don’t want to.” 

Zayn waits, patient as ever, as Niall breathes through the feeling that’s creeping up on him, the very same feeling that is threatening to swallow him whole. 

After a few minutes pass, he lets out a deep breath and looks up to meet Zayn’s gaze, soft and warm as ever. It makes him feel like Zayn’s wrapping him up in the warmest blanket in the world, and the tension in his chest quells considerably. 

“I’m in love with Harry.” 

There’s a beat of silence, and Niall starts to feel that tension rising again and then Zayn’s nodding, shifting forward on his toes and keeping his grip on Niall’s hand tight. He stays quiet though, as he does, almost urging Niall to keep talking. 

“I’m in love with him and he won’t talk to me. I don’t know what I did, we were at the bar last night and he told me some stuff and now we won’t talk to me.” He lets out in a rush of air, staring down at the ground as he speaks. Zayn slips his fingers under his chin, forcing Niall to look at him. 

“Harry’s a weird lad, Niall, you know that. And whether you’re in love with him or not isn’t really any of my business, right, but just don’t let him break your heart.” Zayn advises him, and yet, somehow, Niall doesn’t think it’s going to be quite so easy. 

“It’s not just that he’s weird, he’s..” He trails off, biting on his lip and the hand still twisted with the fabric of his shirt tightens. “I don’t have a clue what I’m on about, sorry.” 

It was a cover, and Niall could tell the moment that he said it, that Zayn saw right through it. But thankfully, he didn’t push, he didn’t try to make him talk anymore. Niall knew he loved Zayn for a reason. 

“Right, want to go see what Louis and Liam are scheming about?” Zayn suggested instead, slinging his arm around Niall’s shoulder, tugging him in close against his side. Niall tucked himself there easily, nodding because anything was a welcome distraction in that instant. 

— 

The next week passes in a flurry of shows, hotel rooms, and bus rides. Niall’s long since used to the routine, but something he’s not sure he’ll ever get used to is falling asleep in his bunk in one city, and waking up in another. 

They’ve made it to Milan, and Niall honestly thinks he’s never going to stop sweating. It’s hot, the shows are hot, and the green room is even hotter before the show. There’s too many bodies pressed there and yet, somehow, they can’t seem to put any sort of space between them. 

Harry has stopped completely avoiding Niall at that point, which he feels like is a step in the right direction. At the same time, though, he’s lost in his head more than ever because of his revelation to Zayn. 

Loving Harry isn’t the problem. The problem is learning to live with loving Harry. 

He feels like everything that he does is going to be a wrong move, that Harry is going to take something in the wrong way and suddenly he’s going to be on the outs again. Crushes, if he could even call it that, aren’t things that he’s used to, it’s been years since there’s been anyone that Niall has liked well enough, or felt secure enough in the presence of to actually have a crush on them. 

Harry though, he’s different, he’s everything good wrapped up in a person and Niall doesn’t know how to deal with that. 

After the show in Verona, they’re all running on energy, but Niall begs off going to the hotel bar with the lads, opting instead to head back to his room to skype with Greg and Denise and baby Theo. In the silence after the call ends, he realizes that he misses them more than he’s really willing to put into words, because voicing those things makes them real and then the ache spreads just that much more. 

He’s sitting on the couch watching an Italian version of a soap opera and trying to figure out what’s going on when the lock on the door makes a whirring sound. Niall mutes the television and waits, and then he hears Harry swearing outside. 

“Ah, jesus.” He mumbles, standing up and crossing to the door. The moment that he pulls open the door, Harry stumbles inside, reaching out and grasping at his shirt. “Jesus fuckin’ christ, hello to you too.” Niall lets out as Harry pushes him backwards and then proceeds to manhandle him around against the door. 

“Niall, you’re.. you didn’t come to the bar. You did not come to the bar.” Harry slurs, blinking his eyes open to stare at Niall intensely, where he has him caged in the bracket of his arms. He stays quiet, focusing on not letting his breathing become too labored. “I missed y’at the bar. I wanted you to be there. Zayn told this wicked story. I wished you where there the whole time we were there.” 

Niall still refuses to speak, or maybe he just can’t get his mouth to actually form the words he wants to say. 

Harry brings his hand up and runs it over Niall’s bottom lip, and he has to resist the urge to suck it into his mouth. Just as he’s thinking about this, Harry leans in and replaces his thumb with his lips. 

He tastes like a sour combination of bourbon and red wine, and yet, underlying, there’s something so soft that’s inexplicably Harry. Niall doesn’t move, only whimpers softly against his lips before he realizes what, exactly, is going on. 

Harry’s kissing him, sure, but he’s also drunk, and Niall’s not about to be anyone’s drunk mistake - not even Harry's. 

He grasps onto his hips, pushing him back gently, but keeping his back up against the hotel room door. It takes a moment until Harry opens his eyes, but when he does, he looks more confused than ever. 

“You’re - I, I can’t.” Niall says in lieu of an explanation, a helpless tone to his voice. Harry simply stares at him before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, not moving an inch. “You should go to bed. Do you have your key?” Niall tries then, moving away from the door and crossing to the side of it. 

Harry doesn’t even hesitate in heading out the door without a sound, and it clicks shut behind him. 

“Fuck.” Niall swears, kicking the door after him and switching off the light. 

— 

The gigs they play in Milan have always been some of Niall’s favorite shows. That particular show turns out to be no different, with the crowd screaming along to their lyrics, dancing at every corner of the stadium. Sometimes Niall has a hard time remembering the fact that they are there for him, for them. 

The ride back to the hotel is spent with all five boys in each other’s space, Harry and Liam laughing loud and uncontrollable about some gag that they pulled during the show, Zayn trying to tickle Liam, and Louis interjecting randomly into the conversation. Niall’s quiet, pressed between the lean line of Louis and the door of the Range Rover. 

“You alright, Ireland?” Louis whispers into his ear, digging his fingers into Niall’s side and he flinches slightly, reaching down to wrap his hand around the offending fingers. 

“Fine.” He mumbles back, shooting a wary glance over to where Harry and Liam are still laughing. He can tell Louis doesn’t believe him straight away when he sighs and rubs his thumb over the soft palm of Niall’s hand. 

“Come to my room, we can light up a bit.” 

Niall doesn’t usually smoke very much, doesn’t see the full appeal of it and he only really does it when it’s all five of them, together. He knows Louis knows this, and he’s not going to force him, instead they’ll hang out in his room while he smokes and he’ll let Niall talk for as long as he needs. 

Only really wanting to talk to Louis that night, he heads to his own room first, changing into a pair of grey jogging bottoms and his 5 Seconds of Summer tee. Pocketing his room key and Louis’, he heads down the hallway to Louis’ room, rapping twice before sliding the key through the reader and heading inside. Louis is standing at the bed, packing a pipe over his suitcase (to keep the evidence in one place, Niall notes), before he motions for Niall to come closer. 

“Figured we could hotbox a bit, yeah? Always better in there anyway, my dear Nialler.” Louis says with a tone of wisdom to his voice, as if he was Yoda or something like that. 

“Whatever you want, Lou. You know.” Niall nods, grinning at him before grabbing some pillows and heading into the bathroom. Louis follows a minute later, shutting the door and shoving a towel in the crack as he settles down on the floor next to him. 

There’s a moment of silence before Niall decides to speak up, watching the way Louis’ lips curl around the end of the pipe. 

“I’m gay.” He starts, just as Louis’ inhales. When there’s no reaction, he continues. “I’m gay and I’m in love with Harry.” Louis opens his mouth and smoke spills out of it slowly, before he turns to look at Niall, slinging his arm around him and pulling him closer. 

“Right, and what are you going to do about that?” Louis asks, which makes him stop for a minute because that’s exactly the question he’s been asking himself for the past few weeks. 

“He kissed me, last night in Verona. After you and the lads were at the bar, he came in and he fuckin’ kissed me. He was so drunk, I made him stop. I told him to leave.” Niall says in an exhale while Louis takes another hit. He holds it out to him and he shakes his head, not really in the mood. 

“And nothing’s happened between you two before?” Niall shakes his head and Louis narrows his eyes slightly. “You know Harry talks a big, gigantic, bullshit talk, right? Like, he’s scared and I’m not sure that he knows what he wants. After people, like, hounding us for years, and fuck they still do, he’s put up some bloody high walls.” He stops for a moment, taking a puff off of the pipe and then letting the smoke escape a moment later. “Hell, we both have, but Harry’s are less visible. Probably just as high though.” 

Niall considers Louis’ words for a moment, knowing he’s right. He generally is, even if none of them are too willing to admit it. The problem is, that Niall still doesn’t know what to do, what to say. 

“He told me he hasn’t pulled in ages, that night when we were out in Berlin.” Niall whispers, staring at the wall in front of him, counting the flecks in his head as he speaks. “Don’t just wanna be a pull for him.” 

“You wouldn’t be. You couldn’t be, not for any of us. Just talk to him, yeah? Maybe not right away, after last night, but soon.” Louis encourages him, and he bites down on his lip, nodding because that really is all he can do. 

Niall doesn’t respond, he simply leans his head against Louis’ shoulder, taking comfort in the boy who has always been the brightest spot in his world. They sit in silence for a few minutes, the sweet, musky smell of Louis’ weed helping to calm him, before Louis speaks up. 

“Wait, am I the last to know?” Niall scrunches up his nose, shrugging. “You know I hate being the last to know, Neil!” Louis exclaims, pouncing on him before twisting his nipple, making him laugh despite the confusion still in his head. 

— 

“You’re actually being a right prick, Harry, I hope you’re aware.” 

Niall stops in his tracks from where he was making his way to the green room to try to chill out a bit before the show. Zayn and Harry’s voices are floating down the hallway to him, and he presses himself back against the wall and listens. 

“Just because I’ve got my head a bit in a mess doesn’t mean I’m being a prick.” 

“You can’t keep jerking him around, like.” Niall can hear Zayn audibly sigh and he knows he’s trying to help, he does, but part of Niall wants to run down the hallway and just drag him out. “This is Niall, mate, and whatever you’ve got going on in that head of yours, you’ve got to sort it out. You can’t let it ruin the band and you definitely can’t let it ruin him.” 

Niall has never wanted to run out into the danger zone of fans outside of a venue before in his life. They’re currently in Barcelona, and the crowd outside of the venue (outside nearly all doors of the venue, in fact) are so deep that he wouldn’t be able to get through. But the idea of doing that is more appealing than standing there and listening to Zayn lecture Harry on something that’s never actually going to happen. 

Yet, he can’t get his feet to move. 

“I’m not going to let it ruin the band!” Harry sounds frustrated, and Niall can’t help but wonder why he’s being so defensive. 

“And what about Niall, Harry?” 

Zayn’s question is met with silence, and that’s all he needs to know. 

Niall turns and takes off down the hallway, heading for the stadium floor, where he jogs a few laps around the standing area. When he finally comes to a stop, his chest is heaving and he falls forward slightly, hands on his knees as he works to catch his breath. He’s not sure how long he’s been standing there when a hand touches his back and he flinches, jerking away from the touch. 

“Just me.” Liam’s voice is soft and he reaches out again. This time, Niall doesn’t flinch away, lets Liam rub wide circles over his back while he catches his breath. “Doors are opening soon, we’ve got to get back. Paul sent me to fetch you, said you looked like you could use a world-famous Payno hug. Do you need a world-famous Payno hug, Niall?” 

Staying hunched over on himself, Niall just nods, and Liam does exactly that. 

— 

The show that night in Barcelona leaves Niall bursting with energy. The five of them always lock themselves in a dressing room after a show, at least for a few minutes, to recuperate and rehash what went on while they were onstage. It’s a tradition that they’ve had since The X-Factor, and Niall loves it. 

It’s the five of them in the room, the energy radiating off of them like visible light. Liam and Louis are caught up in each other, poking and prodding as usual, while Zayn and Harry are laughing about something that he can’t quite make out. Niall, on the other hand, is perched on the back of a settee, just watching his boys with a massive smile. It’s those moments, where he feels more at home than he could ever truly imagine. 

There’s a knock at the door, and Liam pulls it open, revealing Paul there, looking slightly endeared at the sight but mostly just looking tired. 

“Alright boys, time to load up. We’ve got two cars waiting around back, the first one will leave about ten minutes before.” Niall jerks his head to stare at Zayn for a moment, hoping he’s reading in his eyes everything he isn’t saying out loud. 

“Bagsy first car, c’mon Tommo!” Liam whoops, grabbing onto Louis’ hoodie to drag him from the room. Harry opens his mouth, but Zayn’s faster, rising up to his feet. 

“Would rather be in bed calling the missus than waiting around, sorry lads. Bachelor car for you.” Zayn gives them a little bit of an awkward salute, and then he’s out the door. Niall thanks his lucky stars that he has a best mate who can read him like a book. Paul’s still lingering at the door, eying the two of them. 

“I’ll come get you in a bit.” He tells them, but there’s an almost warning tone to his voice that Niall can’t quite decipher. He watches Paul head down the hallway, and then the room is engulfed in silence. 

“Would rather ride with the terrible two than with me on a ten minute ride, eh? Can’t blame you, mate, they’re pretty entertaining.” Niall tries to joke, but it falls flat between them as Harry stares down at his shoes. He has to wonder how things got so awkward between them, when Harry’s been his best mate since they met on the show. 

Harry stays quiet for about thirty seconds before Niall is sucking in a huge breath and saying to himself, fuck it. 

“Listen, Haz, I’ve told the other lads that .. that I’m gay, and now I’m telling you,” he starts, his words spilling out and finally, Harry turns to look at him. His eyes are wide as saucers, and Niall has to wonder if he’s already figured it out. “But I haven’t told them everything. I’m.. I love you, that’s why I couldn’t let you kiss me that night. I love you and you were just drunk, and I couldn’t do that to myself.” 

Still, Harry isn’t saying anything, and Niall feels the anxiety rising in his chest, that tight, tense feeling that he knows all too well. 

“I’ll get over it, over you and that. I just, I wanted you to know how I feel.” Niall’s face flushes then and he takes a step back. “I’ll leave you be, see you in the rover when we leave.” His voice is hardly above a mumble as he turns and heads down the hallway to the back door, pulling out his mobile with shaking hands as he types out a text to Zayn. 

_Told haz_

_ohhh?_

_Can I come to your room when we get in ?_

He pockets his phone just as Paul comes into sight, and the older man claps a hand to his shoulder. 

“Feeling alright, boy? You’re looking a bit pale.” Niall shrugs and offers him a sort of lame smile, before he goes to lean against the wall next to the door. Paul gives him another one of his funny looks before heading down the hallway once more to gather Harry, and he takes the minute to breathe, to tell himself it’s fine, that he’s fine.. But he knows he’s not. 

The drive to the hotel is one of the most awkward that Niall has ever experienced. Harry’s on his phone the entire time, and Niall just stares out the window, counting to one hundred and back again mentally as many times it takes just so he doesn’t lose his head in the silence. 

— 

The two days that they have off before they have another show in Madrid are a welcome break. Niall spends most of his time in his hotel room, drinking cheap beers with Louis, or down at the hotel pool with Liam. 

He hasn’t spoken two words to Harry since the night in Barcelona. 

Onstage, they don’t act any different than usual, messing about with one another and giving the fans the show of their life. They’ve gone through enough spats and had enough band members in strops that they know how to put on a mask and act like nothing’s wrong on the face of things. 

Once they get back to the hotel, Niall decides that he doesn’t want to stay cooped up in the hotel room, and he’s on his way down to the hotel bar when Harry comes out of his room. 

“Niall, hey, wait.” He calls out to him, tugging on the hem of his ridiculous flannel shirt as he comes up behind him. Niall, much to his own chagrin, stops and waits, just like Harry asked. 

Harry stops right in front of him and Niall just stares at him, not really sure what he’s supposed to do, but he waits, just to see what he’s going to do. He watches as he takes in a breath, and then suddenly, he’s speaking more to him than he has in days. 

“I should have said something, when you came out to me. I should have said that’s good, that you’re still our Niall, that you’re still my best friend. There are so many things I should have said, and I didn’t say any of them.” Harry says in his agonizing drawl, and Niall just wants him to hurry up, to just get it all out. “I didn’t know what to say, because I realized I could have you. I thought you weren’t into lads, that’s why you pushed me away that night.” He looks helpless, almost, standing in front of him, and Niall exhales deeply before he speaks. 

“No, Harry, you can’t just come to me and fuckin’ expect me to open my arms or whatever shit you’re trying at.” Niall states, and Harry opens his mouth to speak but he holds up his hand - he’s not finished. “I’m not just going to be something you can have, I’m not.” 

“You’re not just something for me to have, Niall, why would you-” 

“Because if you wanted me, you wouldn’t have ignored me! If you wanted me, you would have opened your fuckin’ mouth instead of just staring at me like I’d just grown two heads when I told you that I’m gay!” Niall exclaims, waving his hands up in the air. He doesn’t exactly want to be having this conversation, but maybe, just maybe, it’ll clear the air in a way that couldn’t have been cleared before. Speaking, maybe, would be better than holding it all inside, and yet it felt like there was a wound being ripped open again and again. 

Instead of answering though, Harry just moves forward, hands reaching out to grab Niall’s hips. Niall’s phone falls to the ground as he’s pushed back against the wall of the hotel and he’s so fucking thankful that they’ve blocked off the entire floor for the tour. He knows what’s going to happen moments before it does happen, Harry’s lips pressing against his insistently. He can’t tell if it’s worse or better than the last time, because now Harry knows, and still, he’s fucking around with him. Niall places both hands on his chest and shoves Harry back, pursing his lips as Harry wipes at his mouth. 

“You can’t fuck me around. I don’t want you to fuck me around.” Niall begins and he stares at him for a moment, before he repeats himself. “You can’t fuck me around, Harry.” 

The way that Harry’s staring at him makes it absolutely impossible for him to say no, absolutely fucking impossible for him to do anything but reach down for his phone, head the few feet to his hotel room. He stops then, and turns to look at Harry, who is still rooted in the spot. 

“Are you coming?” 

Harry starts then, almost tripping over his own feet to get to the door after Niall. Once they’re inside, the room is thick with tension, and Niall doesn’t actually know how to deal with it. He shifts a bit on his feet awkwardly, toeing off his shoes and shrugging off the hoodie he had tossed on over his paper-thin vest and jeans. Harry looks about the same state as he does, awkward, but wanting even if he doesn’t know how to approach it, not anymore. 

Or maybe he never has. 

In that moment, Niall realizes that he’s had enough. He’s sick of letting Harry initiate everything, when all he wants to do is touch. So he does just that, and moves forward, grasping onto Harry’s hips before leading him towards the bed. He has to rise up on his toes a bit to get at Harry’s mouth the way he wants to, licking against his lips immediately as he pushes him back onto the mattress. Harry’s body goes pliant beneath him, and Niall’s able to maneuver them both so they’re against the pillows. 

“Are we actually going to do this?” Harry asks, breathless, against his lips and Niall wants to smack him a little bit, but he understands why he had to ask. Niall’s pushed him away a number of times; but now the air is starting to be clear between them. 

“Yeah, I’d like to touch your cock.” Niall states, pushing back so he’s propped up above him, and he raises an eyebrow at Harry, who simply grins up at him, slow as usual. Niall feels his hands everywhere, trailing down from his shoulders to grasp at his ass, and he goes willingly down against him, settling in between Harry’s legs easily. Yet, they don’t kiss immediately, and Niall feels Harry’s lips trailing across his jaw. He kisses like he talks - slow, but sweet like syrup. Niall feels his breath against his ear before he hears his voice, and then - 

“Not going to fuck you around, promise.” 

For a reason Niall doesn’t really want to dwell on, that’s what spurs him into action. He turns his head and kisses Harry like he means it - deep and almost filthy. Harry’s hands are still on his ass, still holding him tight against his body, and Niall can feel his cock fattening up between them, pressed up against his own through a few layers of fabric that he desperately wants to lose. 

Pulling back from the kiss, Niall reaches down and tugs off his shirt, watching as Harry’s eyes skitter over his chest. There’s no nervousness within him, no sense of insecurity because it feels like Harry’s drinking him in, like he can’t get enough. 

In a moment, Harry’s sitting up too, tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it aside, but in the meantime, he nearly loses his balance. He grabs onto Niall again, his big hand splayed at the small of his back and he draws him in again for a kiss. Niall’s hands go up to his hair, settling there and holding on tight as he rocks his hips down experimentally. The moan he swallows from Harry is enough to make him do it again, his hips rolling against Harry’s, creating a slow sort of friction, before Harry’s flipping them over and covering him with his body. 

“Knees not that bad, you know.” Niall mumbles as Harry’s hand trails down his chest, and he shivers into the touch. It’s enough to make him forget about how he wanted to be on top of Harry, wanted to feel his body beneath him. He feels Harry’s hand sliding down his chest still, aching slow, and Niall groans, arching his hips up involuntarily. His hand comes to rest on the fabric of his jeans, and Harry looks up to meet his gaze. 

“Is this..” 

“Harry, I swear to fuck, love that you’re cautious, but right now, I guarantee everything you want to do is fine. Perfect, even, so let’s just.. get on, yeah?” It’s enough to make Harry nod, and he unbuttons Niall’s jeans in an instant, dragging the zip down just after and Niall groans at the brush of Harry’s hand over his cock. It’s not enough, it’s not nearly enough, but he wants to just let Harry do what’s gotten into his head, because it nearly seems like he has a plan. 

Harry manages to get Niall’s jeans down his legs, and he wiggles a bit as he kicks them off, managing to nearly knock his knee into Harry’s ribs. 

“You’ve got to be careful Niall, I’m very fragile.” Harry scolds him, but there’s still a grin on his lips. Niall reaches up and flicks his nose as a response, before he arches up into the kiss, his own hands going between them to make short work of Harry’s jeans, but they’re a bit more tricky to drag off his legs given the angle, and the fact that Harry insisted on wearing jeans that were painted on. 

“Don’t believe you’re as fragile as you play,” Niall mumbles, still pushing at Harry’s jeans as best as he can manage. As soon as they’re off, Harry presses down against him, their cocks lining up through the fabric of their pants. “Fuck.” Reaching up, Niall grasps onto Harry’s ass, pulling him closer, tighter down in between his legs. He grunts a bit in response, and Niall can see in his peripheral where he’s braced himself with a hand on either side of his head as he rocks against him, the drag of their cocks together even better now. 

A part of him can’t even really believe that it’s happening, that he’s finally there with Harry, that he’s wanted by Harry. It’s insane to him, and maybe it’s something he should think through a bit more, but honestly, Niall’s sick of thinking. 

He slips a leg up around Harry’s hips, the angle between them changing slightly and he feels Harry’s groan against his neck, where he’s been pressing biting kisses against his skin. In that moment, Niall feels like he’s going to come faster than he wants to. 

“Stop, stop,” Niall pulls back breathlessly, gasping to get some sort of air into his lungs so he can think about anything other than coming. Harry pulls back with a confused expression on his features, ready to jump off the bed, it seems. “No, Jesus, stay, just.” Niall breathes out and Harry just looks more confused. 

“Just what, Niall? Do you want me to go?” He asks, his eyes downcast, staring at one of the marks that he made on Niall’s neck and he just sighs, shaking his head. 

“No, I just don’t want to come without touching your cock,” Niall tries to explain, reaching up to hook a finger under his chin, forcing Harry to look at him. “Don’t want you to leave, Haz. Never’ve really wanted you to leave.” 

That’s enough to get Harry moving again, this time, reaching down to press Niall’s leg flat against the bed again, before he’s moving down his body. His fingertips send electric shocks down his spine as he gets to the waistband of Niall’s black boxer briefs, and he pauses then to glance up, nervous still. 

“I’m serious, don’t want you to leave, or stop.” Niall murmurs, his hand dragging through his hair slowly. “Also serious about wanting to touch your cock, and I think you should touch mine too.” Harry lets out a laugh then, and seems to relax, pulling down his briefs, and Niall’s cock springs free, hard and leaking at the top already. 

“Let me..” Harry licks over his lips and then he grasps onto his cock, starting to stroke him slowly, teasing and somehow Niall knew this would be how Harry touched his dick. Niall moans shamelessly, hips jerking up and he stares down at Harry, who is still just watching the way that his cock fucks into the circle of his fist. 

“Harry. Haz, get up here you gobshite, let me get your cock out,” he states then finally, slipping his hand under his arm to get him up closer, and Harry moves up his body, that telltale grin on his lips again. Niall rolls his eyes because somehow, even with that stupid smirk on his face, he’s so fond of him that it hurts. Once he’s close enough, Niall pushes down his pants around his ass, just enough to get at his cock, and he grasps onto him the moment that it’s free from the constraint of his briefs. He’s a bit longer than Niall, and slimmer too, something that Niall isn’t surprised by due to those damn jeans that he wears. 

“Jesus, Nialler.” Harry whimpers, his hips pushing up into his hand immediately and Niall feels an odd rush at the fact that he made Harry react that way. "Not gonna last, you, fuck." Niall laughs, sort of watery and overwhelmed and he grasps onto Harry's hip to shift them up closer to the pillows. 

"C'mere, I want to try something." Niall says as Harry settles close against him, his pants still awkwardly settled around his thighs. Niall scoots in too, a little shy smile on his lips as he reaches out to circle his cock again. Harry begins to reach for his, and he swats his hand away. "Let me," he gets out, inching closer and then closing his hand around both of their cocks. 

It's not perfect and it's a bit dry, not the slippery glide Niall usually likes when he's jacking himself off, but with Harry's length pressed against his own dick, it's just a bit short of perfect. Niall strokes them both the best he can, straining his neck out to kiss Harry. He's making soft keening sounds against his lips and honestly, Niall can't get enough of him like this, he's not sure he's ever going to be able to get enough. 

Niall swipes his thumb through the precome leaking at the tip of their dicks, smearing it down over them, just to make the slide that much easier. It's that, the swipe of his thumb against Harry's slit that makes his hips jerk up, and suddenly, he's coming all over Niall's hand, their stomachs, and Niall's cock. 

"Fucker," Niall laughs against his mouth as he reaches up to cradle Harry's head, intending to stroke him through it but the feel of his come on his cock is enough to make him come too, his fingers tightening in his hair. He doesn't even realize it at first, but the silence consumes them, wraps around them and yet - it's completely comfortable. 

When he opens his eyes, he meets Harry's gaze immediately. The idea that Harry was watching him makes a flush spread on his body, but it also pushes him to ask, "Stay here?" 

— 

Niall wakes up the next morning with a semi, due to the warm body curved around his spine. He’d made Harry take off his pants the night before, because he had been too orgasm-lazy to remember to do it, and then he’d immediately plastered himself to Niall’s back and stayed there the rest of the night. 

It’s been so long since they’ve shared rooms, beyond sticking close to Liam at the start of the tour when he was still trying to move on from Danielle. But that was different, that was all of them, and now it’s just him and Harry. 

He’s about to get up and head for the shower when Harry’s hand comes snaking around his waist, pressing into the skin just above his cock. 

“Morning,” Niall rolls his eyes, his voice still rough from sleep and then Harry’s hand is slipping lower, grasping onto his cock. “You going to say anything? Usually a ‘morning Nialler’ would be polite.” He manages to get the words out even as Harry starts to stroke him slowly, and he presses back against him, feeling Harry’s dick pressed against his arse. 

“Morning, Nialler. Would quite like to suck your cock now, if that’s alright with you.” Harry says, moving back and pushing Niall flat onto his back as he moves over him. His eyes are huge and owlish and Niall laughs, rubbing both of his hands over his face. 

“That’s alright, yeah.” Harry takes that as his go ahead then and he scoots down the bed so he’s eye level with Niall’s cock and in a moment, he’s sucking wetly on the head. “Christ, more than alright, I’d say.” Niall forces out, his head pressed against the pillow as he tests it, hips rocking up slightly. Harry lets him and Niall wonders belatedly if this isn’t the first time Harry’s sucked a cock before. His tongue flicks over the vein as he makes his way down his cock, and Niall doesn’t hesitate in being a bit vocal. 

“You look so good, Harry, jesus, so fuckin’ good.” He lets out, one hand coming down to cup the side of his face, fingertips brushing over his cheek where he can feel his cock in his mouth. Niall pulls his hand away like he’s been burned, because he knows if he doesn’t, it’s going to be over embarrassingly quick. 

Harry, however, seems to think that he doesn’t care how quick it’s over, because he’s soon doubling his effort on his cock, working his mouth down as far as he can manage, letting Niall chase the heat by rocking his hips up. The way he’s shifting on the bed, Niall can tell he’s rubbing himself off on the sheets, and fuck if that isn’t the hottest image he’s ever had laid out in front of him. 

It’s all over a moment later when Harry’s hand slips between his legs and he looks up at him with a playful glint as he thumbs over the sensitive skin behind his balls. The touch, combined with how Harry is staring up at him is enough to make Niall come with a soft shout of “Harryharryharry.” 

He leans back against the pillow to catch his breath as Harry pulls off with a pop and he looks down, reaching for him with the intent of pulling him off, but then he realizes Harry’s got come on his hands. Seeing as he came in Harry’s mouth, he expects that it’s his own. He raises an eyebrow at him, and Harry grins a bit wolfishly. 

“Love sucking cock, especially yours.” He says by way of explanation, and Niall swats at his chest before dragging him up to lean against the pillows with him. He runs his tongue over his lips, eyes searching Harry’s face as he tries to pick out the right words to say. “What is it, Ni?” Harry prompts, and he sighs, knowing he has to say something now. 

“Just. Everything, from last night? You meant it?” Niall asks, his voice hardly above a whisper as he stares at him. Harry’s face turns a bit more serious and he reaches up, cupping Niall’s jaw in his hand and running his thumb over his bottom lip. 

“More than serious. Dead serious, I promise you. Won’t fuck you around. I want you proper.” Harry tells him and Niall sucks in a shaky breath, unable to look away from Harry’s gaze. 

“Sorry it’s just, thought I’d be alone in it. For like, forever.” He looks away then, staring past Harry to look out the window, the city stretching out as far as he can see. He hears Harry sigh and wrap him up, pulling him close to his chest. 

“You’re never alone, Nialler, I’m always going to be here, promise.” Harry whispers as he drags them down into the mess of blankets, and Niall goes willingly. 

— 

“Oi, lads, look who decided to join us!” Louis’ voice is far too loud for Niall’s liking, and he frowns at him as he and Harry enter the room. They had slept for another hour that morning, and then taken a shower, and maybe things got a bit out of hand there, leaving them ten minutes late to the group breakfast that Liam had organized. 

“Sorry, my fault.” Harry waves his hand in Louis’ general direction, collapsing on a chair across from Zayn, and Niall follows. Zayn looks dead on his feet - or maybe on his bum - and Niall can’t really blame him. Anytime before noon is early for Zayn, even on tour. 

“I suppose we’ll just have to forgive you, considering that we won’t be nearly as mad as Lou will be when she sees your neck, Niall.” Louis continues, keeping a straight face as Niall’s head jerks up and stares at him. He can feel his skin burning, and he glances to Harry, who looks nonplussed. “Nice work, Harold, who knew you had such lively snappers.” 

“Oh my god.” Zayn groans, putting his head in his hands and Niall is just staring around at them, a horrified expression on his face. 

“Wait, what? What do Harry’s teeth have to do with Niall’s hickey?” Liam questions and Niall scoots his chair back from the table, the legs scratching on the floor. 

“Harry!” He exclaims helplessly, whacking him in the shoulder, but Harry just grins at Liam. 

“Did it myself. It’s a work of art, I’d say. Real up and coming artist, me.” Harry states, slinging his arm around Niall’s shoulder and dragging his chair back in close to the table. Niall wants to shrivel up and let the floor swallow him whole, but instead, he settles for burying his head in Harry’s shoulder. 

“I hate you all.” He says listlessly, and they all laugh. Niall stays hidden, but Harry’s hand drifts up to his hair and somehow, he feels more at home than he’s ever felt with his four boys.

**Author's Note:**

> come visit me on [tumblr](http://kilamniall.tumblr.com/)!


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